


Roots and roof beams

by Johnny_Roundy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Parent John Winchester, Catharsis, Catharsis Ending, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnny_Roundy/pseuds/Johnny_Roundy
Summary: When Cas comes back from the Empty, Dean gathers the courage to declare his feelings for him. Three years later, they have a home of their own and life is good. But Dean's been having nightmares and doesn't know how to make them stop. He doesn't let that get in the way of finally being happy, but then the unthinkable happens: John Winchester returns. Dean has changed a lot since they last saw each other, and he's at a place in his life where he decides to take this situation as an opportunity to tell John all the things he's wanted to tell him his whole life, about his and Sam's childhood, about Mary, about everything, and finally get the catharsis and closure he's been needing.The first chapter can be read as a fully John-free standalone ficlet if you want the established domesticity but not the heavier part that starts when he shows up.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 84





	1. Come, carpenters, lift up the rooftree

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tara and Abi for being my beta readers.

Gunshots.

Thunder. Pouring rain. Pouring blood. Whose blood?

The smell of burning. Fire. Holy fire? Hot fire.

Light flashing on a blade.

Fade to white, and Dean wakes up sweating.

Cas is holding him, calling out his name. Dean turns to him, still panting, and looks him in the eyes. He doesn't need to say anything, these nightmares happen sometimes, and Cas knows them already. It's been three years since they defeated Chuck and Cas came back from the Empty, and in the first few months this happened a lot more. Maybe with time it'll stop happening at all. But for now, Cas is holding Dean in their bed, gently rocking the two of them back and forth and saying "it's okay, i'm right here, sshhh, it's okay" and kissing Dean's head. Dean leans into it and grabs Cas's arm with one of his arms and pulls up the sheets with the other. He's cold.

He eventually falls asleep and Cas goes back to sleep with him, but he wakes up early. The autumn sun rises on them and shines through the half-open blinds and Cas stares for a while at the silhouette of a butterfly on the glass, Dean asleep in his arms. Living near the woods has its perks. He smiles. It really feels like they have a home for the first time.

When Cas got out of the Empty, Dean was right there waiting for him. He didn't give Cas a chance to say anything and started talking like someone who had a speech rehearsed but had suddenly forgotten it, all jumbled sentences that felt like he was dancing around a word he was afraid to say.

"Dean", he said. And it grounded Dean. He'd heard Cas say that so many times over the years, in that specific way of his, soft but direct, eons old but rooted in the present at the same time. The more Dean pushed down his feelings for Cas, the more hearing that hurt, a future regret kind of hurt. But losing Cas like he did, beating Chuck and finally having the true free will he'd fought so hard for, made Dean rethink things. Things he never thought possible seemed possible, he just needed to gather the courage to make them happen. Hearing Cas say his name had always felt like watching the life he could never have happen from outside the window, but now, for the first time, he knew he could simply walk in and be home. He just needed to push the door open. Cas said his name and it felt like an invitation. He took a deep breath.

"I love you. So much. I've loved you for years. And I never thought you could love me back but you do and I love you too and Chuck's gone so what are we waiting for? There's nothing holding us back. So I guess what I want to say is-"

Cas kissed Dean, soft but direct, eons old but rooted in the present at the same time. Dean kissed him back, and just like that he was home.

When they stopped kissing, neither of them could say how long had passed. Sam and Eileen were standing behind Dean.

"It's good to see you too, Cas." They all hugged and took a moment to enjoy the moment. They were all there, everyone was okay. They'd won.

They went home to the bunker in the Impala, Dean driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on Cas's thigh until Cas put his hand over Dean's and they locked fingers. They drove the whole way home like that, unable to be physically apart from each other for even one second. Twelve years was enough. When they arrived Cas and Eileen went to their rooms because Sam and Dean wanted to talk alone for a bit.

"So...you and Cas." Sam chuckled, leaning against a table, arms crossed.

"Yeah." Dean let out a laugh of disbelief. "Yeah, man." A beat of silence. Dean glanced at Sam and then looked at the ground, at the wall, anywhere but Sam, anything but looking him in the eyes. He cleared his throat. "What do you...uhm...what do you think about that?"

"I'm happy for you. Really. It finally happened! That's amazing!"

"Wait what do you mean finally?" Dean did a double take and looked up at Sam. Sam stared at him for a bit, not understanding what he was asking.

"Dean, you really have no idea how obvious it was, do you?" He didn't. "You two have been so clearly in love for so long, if you hadn't fessed up to it I'd probably parent trap you two or something because it was honestly getting tiring to watch you live like that."

Dean was frozen, rethinking the past 12 years of his life. He wasn't the only one his feelings sucked at staying hidden from, turns out. He didn't know if he should cry or laugh at that, so much had happened in the past few hours that he was out of reactions at that point. He did feel relief, though. He was so afraid of how Sam would react. Irrationally afraid, since he'd come out to Sam so many years ago, but that didn't stop him from fearing how Sam would feel about this. It wasn't just some guy, it was Cas. Irrational fear.

After their heart to heart, Sam and Dean hugged and called it a night. Sam went to his and Eileen's room, and Dean decided to sneak up to Cas's room. He opened the door very slowly, walked in, and closed it even more slowly behind him, taking a deep breath. He turned to Cas in a twirl that was maybe a bit too silly and just stood there for a while, looking at the ground, then back at Cas, then back at the ground.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Cas stood in front of Dean and said nothing else too. They paced around a bit, aimlessly but not, slowly getting closer to each other. Soon enough they were standing toe to toe.

"Hey", this time smiling wider.

"Hey", this time smiling wider back.

Dean braced himself and then moved first to kiss Cas, very gently, his hands slowly rising until they were around Cas's face. He felt himself being kissed back and it was so soft he could hardly bear it. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and Dean felt his eyes well up, action and reaction, the final straw for him to unravel and fully process what was happening. He started laughing and crying at the same time, tears of happiness, tears of well deserved and long awaited joy. Cas touched Dean's forehead with his and they stood like this for a while. Cas brushed his hand across Dean's face to wipe off his tears and kissed him again. They looked each other in the eyes in that telepathy way of theirs and kissed again. And again and again, each time more intense, both letting their hunger for each other roam free. They lowered themselves onto the bed. Dean had pictured this so many times but almost always cut himself off before getting to this part, forcing himself not to want it, but he didn't have to deny it anymore. And it was better than anything he could have imagined.

The next morning Dean woke up almost at 11am, after the best night of sleep of his life. He'd fallen asleep lying on Cas's chest, the two of them a jumble of arms and legs entwined. He couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began and he'd never felt better. The impossible had happened, Dean couldn't believe it. The love of his life was an angel and that angel loved him back. The love of his life was a man and that man loved him back and he could love this man like this without fear or shame. He took a deep breath and let himself enjoy that moment, tracing the lines of Cas's muscles with his fingers, still half-asleep. Cas woke up and they kissed drowsily. Cas's stubble felt nice, Dean thought. The love of his life was an angel who loved him back. God is dead and they can be in love now. The love of his life was a man who loved him back. Their fathers are dead and they can be in love now. They kissed again.

That room became their room, and that bed became their bed, and Dean felt his heart full to the brim whenever he said "our bed" or "our room". After a while, they decided the bunker wasn't for them anymore. They couldn't leave the hunting life completely, but Dean wanted fresh air, a life out in the open. And it felt wrong to keep an angel underground now that they didn't have to hide from anything anymore. Bunkers are from hiding. So Cas decided to build them a house, for just the two of them. They decided it would be near the woods, where Cas could keep bees and Dean could fix cars. Their hands weren't for killing anymore, they were for making, making honey and making their own happiness and making love and making furniture. Dean's were already calloused, Cas's would get there. You don't get calloused hands from holding knives and writing gospels. He wanted calloused hands. So he got to building, and the first thing he built was their new bed. Cas made a point of choosing the ugliest piece of wood and smoothing it until its knots looked like constellations. In his mind they were, eons ago.

The bed where they're laying now.

Cas runs his fingers through Dean's hair very softly with his calloused hands as Dean is waking up.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Dean groaned.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nah. Same as always. Something something sword of Michael, something something everybody dead, gunshots from the Colt, me back in Hell, we've gone through it. i know what it is. I just don't know how to make it stop." He sits up, wraps his arms around his knees and puts his head in his hands. Cas rubs his back and kisses his shoulder because there's nothing to say, really. Nothing he can't say like that. They get up and go make breakfast. Dean loves Cas's bees, he does. Maybe not as much as he does, Cas sees something when he looks at those bees that Dean knows his mind can't reach no matter how well he understands the general idea behind it, but he's always surprised at how Cas never tires of their honey. It's endearing.

Dean gets the coffee grounds from the cabinet and takes a moment to brush his hand across one of the wood panes. He does sometimes, and remembers picking out the wood with Cas, sawing it, sanding it, turning it into their new life together. Using their free will to make themselves a home. Sometimes he still has brief moments where he asks himself if this is all real, if all this happiness is real, and he puts his hand against one of the beams of the house to remind himself that it is. They worked hard to build this home and even harder to get to the point where they could think about building a home, and the beams are solid and real and they're there underneath his hand and putting his hand over those knots makes him think of how Cas probably watched some of these trees grow from seeds and even he didn't know what they would become. He's told Cas about this and Cas answered by quoting Sappho. "Come, carpenters, lift up the rooftree, Hymanaeus, for here enters the house a bridegroom the equal of Ares", he said with a smile. "Raise high the roof beam, carpenters", said Dean. "J.D. Salinger. I read too". Cas chuckled and kissed Dean.

After breakfast Dean goes to his workshop to work on two almost ruined cars some hunters asked him to fix. Sam and Eileen show up a bit later, as they do once in a while. They say they like the atmosphere there. Cas sees them from afar and signs good morning.

"You look a bit rough. Still having those nightmares?" Sam asks.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Kinda", says Eileen.

"You sure you don't have any?"

"Can't say I have." Sam remembers the nightmares he used to have. Dean doesn't deserve that, never has and certainly doesn't now.

They stay for lunch, which Cas is already cooking when they enter the kitchen. Dean hugs him from behind and gets a bite out of this and that from the counter with one arm around Cas's waist. It's a nice little moment until Dean starts meddling so much that eventually he's the one making lunch and doesn't even notice Cas has moved to the other side of the kitchen, signing a whole conversation with Eileen while Sam is stuck putting up with Dean explaining at the air how you stop a pie from getting a soggy bottom. It almost feels like they have a normal, domestic life now, the kind of life they've always looked at from afar, if you ignore the gun hidden under the sink. And the one underneath the coffee table. Among others. Neither Dean nor Cas wanted them there, but old habits are hard to break. There used to be more. Maybe with time there won't be any at all. But for now, they're enjoying a life as close to what they've always called "normal" as they can. Normal is overrated anyways, they think. After everything they've been through, with everything they are, this is perfect. Dean leans against one of the beams and takes a deep breath. Cas looks at him and smiles. In the distance, an old muscle car rumbles on the road. The bees buzz. They're happy.


	2. Raise high the roof beam, carpenters

A muscle car is pulling up to the house. Cas suddenly stands up straight, like he's sensing something is wrong. Eileen tracks his movements with her eyes and then glances at Sam, then at Dean, then they all look out the window at the car that just stopped. The driver's door opens and a man walks out, closes the door behind him and turns around to face the house.

It's John Winchester.

Sam and Dean are frozen. Eileen doesn't recognize him so she asks Cas who that is. "Someone with no business here", he says.

They all walk towards the front door and open it in a rush to see up close if it's really him. It is. Suddenly the air feels heavier.

"So it's really you." John says. "Is this where you've been shacking up? Your hunter base?" Doesn't feel like a shapeshifter or anything, and Cas confirms it's him. As he's talking he's walking towards the door. Dean puts himself between John and the porch steps.

"No, it's my house, and you're not coming in." He's direct, assertive, but still calm.

"Oh you have a house now? Got a family in that house, too? Come on, Dean. How long as it been? Aren't you gonna let your dad in?"

"No. Now tell us what you're doing here and how you're here." John tries to move around Dean to walk inside but Dean doesn't let him. His eyes are fixed on John's, unflinching. John looks at Sam up on the porch and only gets more of the same look. He's unwelcome and he knows it. He scoffs and looks at Dean like he's saying "come on. You didn't even miss me?" but Dean won't budge.

"Suddenly woke up alive in some lodge about three years ago. A guy was there, looked like he was waiting for me. Said his name was Chuck." The others let out a tired breath and roll their eyes. Of course. John is silent for a beat and then continues. "He told me where you'd be the next day and then poof! He was gone." He shrugs. "I went to where he said and you weren't there. Figured it was on purpose so I stayed gone, been hunting with some contacts I've made. A few weeks ago one of them mentioned in passing two brothers living around here who help them out sometimes and I thought it sounded like you two, so I debated coming here for a while. Ended up deciding to pay my sons a visit." He smiles but it doesn't feel kind at all.

The others sit with this for a while, looking at each other without knowing what to say. They're not free of Chuck just yet. If it weren't for the shock of seeing John in front of him, Dean would probably see an angry in-laws joke somewhere in here.

"Sunavabitch still had one more trick up his sleeve, huh." Dean laughs. He has to laugh. Of course Chuck thought of this. Of course he thought of something as simple as bringing one human back, this human, to unravel Dean, so simple but so cruel. The allfather raises the father from the dead. Father ruins son. Son can't ruin the allfather. The allfather's son would kill the father, maybe, but that just adds more symmetry. He did love his symmetry. Of course he'd think of that.

"Do you have any idea who that was?", Sam asks John.

"I got looped in since it happened. Pretty incredible stuff. Stuff you did, son." John puts his arm on Dean's shoulder in that "that's my boy" way of his but Dean flinches away and shakes his hand off of him. John is not welcome here.

"How much do you know?", Sam continues.

"I know that Chuck guy was God and that he was a bad guy. Not really something I'd expected but I guess it makes sense. And I know that my boys helped stop him. My own son killed God. People are calling you the greatest hunter of all time." He looks so proud. Dean still won't let him up the steps.

"I'm not a hunter anymore."

"What?"

"Well, sometimes. Once in a blue moon. Old habits die hard." He smiles at John just like he did earlier. Not kind at all either, but different.

"But...but you're the best, that's what they all say."

"I had a lot of help." He glances behind him at the others standing on the porch, and then back at John. "And being good at something doesn't mean I have to keep doing it." His stare gets more intense for a brief moment. "Right, dad?"

John doesn't know what to say. "What about you, Sam?"

"That's a lot of questions for someone who didn't give a shit for three years."

John looks at the ground and nods for a bit. "Okay. Okay, I deserved that. That's fair." His face has the slightest tint of actual regret. "I should have come sooner, I know. When Dean didn't show I thought you didn't want to see me."

"I didn't. I don't. You shouldn't have come at all." Dean's voice is steady but Cas knows that's not quite how he's feeling. He wants to be closer to Dean but doesn't know if he should. He stays on the porch. Dean's tone changes a little bit, from assertive to inquisitive. "What else did they tell you?"

"That's about it. When they want help from the two brothers, they come here. One of them fixes cars apparently, I'm guessing that's you. The other seems like he has access to a big library, I'm guessing that's Sam. Both of you help out as reinforcement on hunts sometimes. And they talked about you working with more people but couldn't tell me more about them. I'm guessing that's the new faces I'm seeing back there. Hi." He nods and does a little wave at Cas and Eileen, not noticing Dean taking a deep breath. Cas and Eileen don't react, if anything they make a point of looking more stern. He clears his throat and sighs. "Come on Dean. You have a house of your own, probably have a family of your own from the look of this place. Are you married? Don't I get to know at least that?"

Dean looks like he's making an effort not to say something. He looks angry. John decides this won't do and forces his way past Dean and into the house. The others move to stop John but Dean says from down the steps "it's okay, let him in if that's what he wants". Sam and Eileen go in with him while Dean takes his time going up the porch steps and Cas stays behind to talk to him. "Are you okay?", he whispers. Dean says yes but holds his arm a bit too tight and for a bit too long for that to be true. "What do you want me to do?", Cas asks, and he answers "Just...be here." Cas understands what that means and briefly brushes his hand over Dean's cheek before walking into the house. As he does, Dean glances into the house, trying to track John. When they get in he's already talking again.

"Nice house you got here. Solid bases. The beams look strong."

"They are." Dean says. John keeps trying to walk into every room and Sam and Eileen keep blocking his way. This is Dean and Cas's home, they get to decide how much of it John sees, how much of their life together John gets to know about. If anything at all. Sam is bracing for a disaster.

"Doesn't look like there's anyone else here. Doesn't feel like a house where kids live. But it doesn't feel like a house where you'd live alone, Dean. So what gives. That one over there who still won't tell me her name seems like Sam's girlfriend, right?" Eileen makes a disgusted face. John is not welcome here. John looks at Cas. "Still don't know anything about you. How's it going?", John says as he moves to shake Cas's hand, playing a fake little nice-guy-making-small-talk routine. And there it is. He's clocked it. Dean gulps. Cas's posture changes and he looks at Dean. Dean's immediate reaction is for his mind to start racing trying to figure out _how_ or when he clocked it, if he saw them on the porch or if they just give off that feeling when they're in the same space (a thought he would treasure on any other day but right now it scares him) or if he lied about no one having told him about it or if-. He takes a deep breath. That doesn't matter. He's not in his teens anymore having to look over his shoulder whenever he was with a boy to make sure John wasn't watching. He's not in his mid-twenties doing the same thing. He's not in his thirties still looking over his shoulder when he was with Benny or with Lee to make sure the ghost of his father wouldn't catch him not being the man he was supposed to be. Even in death, even across the country, even in Purgatory. That's not who he is anymore. So what if John knows. He's dead, for crying out loud. He's alive but he's dead. He inhales, eyes closed, gathering the courage to say it. He can feel the others waiting in silence. John's silence feels different from theirs.

"That's Cas. We live here. Together." It's out there now but Dean doesn't feel freer, he doesn't feel lighter. He feels suspended mid-air, holding his own weight, waiting for a reaction for what feels like minutes. Cas walks up to Dean and stands a bit closer to him. John laughs a demeaning laugh.

"I see. So what is this Cas to you?"

"We're partners."

"Hunting partners?" Dean knows he's got it, he's not asking for clarification. He's asking "is he a hunter too?" as a way of asking "has he been pretending to be a man like you or is he one of those who won't even do that?". He's asking "how far away have you strayed? How much of a disappointment are you?". He chuckles at how there's a scale, and how Cas isn't even on it.

"So let me get this straight." Sam would be stifling a laugh if the air didn't feel so heavy. "You're barely hunting anymore......living like _this_........" He's taking his time talking, stretching the time. He knows that makes the whole thing worse. This isn't new to Dean, he used to do this when they argued about him not taking good care of Sam. He knew if he stretched out the time enough, Dean would fill it himself, internally. And when it comes to saying hurtful things to Dean, no one has ever done it better than Dean himself, and John was well aware of that. He knows Dean knows that's what he's doing, that's part of the dance. He continues. "Is this really what you want for yourself?"

"It's all I've ever wanted." Dean swallows a sound coming from he doesn't even know where. That's not quite the answer John was expecting. Not what Dean is saying, but that he'd actually say it.

"Really? Stuck in this twisted postcard of a life with whoever this guy is?" He's not even trying to mask his disgust.

"I'm not stuck, dad, that's the thing. For the first time in my life I'm free. Free from your voice in my head telling me to man up, free from the idea you put into my head that I should stick to being a hunter and charm every girl I could see. _That's_ when I was stuck. Couldn't you see that?"

John laughs that demeaning laugh again. "So what, are you gay now?"

"I'm bisexual, dad. Always have been." Another one that's out there now. More weight piling on. He's gotten used to saying this out loud by now, but this time the word struggles to get out.

"Ahhh, I see." He makes a whole show out of it, sarcastic to the point of being corrosive, grating on the part of Dean that still can't escape his upbringing no matter how much he tries. John stands there for a while, looking at the floor, contemplating the wood boards and laughing a sad little laugh. There's a long pause and Dean doesn't know what to do with himself. He's standing by the table, holding on to a chair, and Cas is doing his best to be there for him. Sam wants to come to Dean's defense but he knows it's not the time, so he just stands there holding hands with Eileen, tighter now. Finally, John moves. He looks up and says "well Mary, I tried. I did my best."

Sam winces and then feels angrier than ever. Dean closes his eyes. His face is twisting in that way only John can provoke, his hands are fists. He gulps. A pause, and then words start flowing out of him and he makes the choice not to block their path.

"You just had to do that, didn't you. You had to use her again, just like you always did. That's all she's good for. You say _we have to do this for her_ and off we go. You say I have to stay for her and I stay. You say you're raising me into the man she'd want me to be and anything goes. Mary this and Mary that-"

"You take her name off your mouth, you don't get to say it." John interrupts.

"No _YOU_ don't get to say it." He walks up to John and looks up at him with rage in his eyes."You don't get to use her like that. It's not gonna work anymore and she never deserved it."

"Y-"

" _SHUT UP_. Shut up. I'm talking now." He's pacing around the room. "There's a lot of things I've wanted to tell you throughout my life and I think it's about time you hear them. Because you have no idea how thoroughly you fucked us up for life, do you? You have no idea how much hearing your voice inside our heads has messed with our lives. I'm not saying you had it easy, but fucking hell, a little self-awareness wouldn't hurt. And what happened was no excuse for what you did to us. Raising us like soldiers you were sending off to war, to a war that was _your_ personal revenge fantasy. I was six years old when I first saw you kill a monster. Twelve when I first saw you kill a man. I was over thirty when I found out how many monsters were also men, some of them not that bad. You wanna talk about that? You raised us to shoot to kill and not even give anyone or anything a shadow of a doubt. You didn't want sons, you wanted guns that shot wherever you pointed them. Carnage on the way to how you wanted the story to end and who cares if you fuck up a couple of kids along the way. We were children! You don't get to write the story, nobody does! Tragedy happened, yes. You were grieving, yes. But what kind of psycho does that to his kids?"

Sam sits down, holds Eileen's hand tighter. Watching John hear this is something he wasn't even aware he needed. But he knows this goes beyond the part of their upbringing the two had in common. Dean needs this. Cas, on his end, tenses up, thinking at first that this isn't just about John, but then he realizes it is. After all, for Dean, Chuck was just the same thing again, but bigger. And in a way smaller, at the same time. Cas knows this and knows what it feels like, so has no intention of stopping Dean, just of being by his side. He gives John an intense stare. He has no patience for men like him, but this isn't his time to talk.

"I wanted to do right by you, teach you how to be men."

"Ah yes, that's right. The old motto. _Be a man_." Dean makes his voice deeper, more aggressive. More like John's, but as a little theatre play. "Hurt your ankle in second grade? Suck it up, be a man. Won't stop crying because you're a three-year-old and you're hungry? Brave it out and be a little man, gotta start early. Don't wanna shoot a gun? Well you got to, be a man. Don't wanna kill a living thing? Too bad, be a man." Dean stops for a moment, eyes welling up, and looks John in the eyes. A tear falls. His tone of voice changes, he's more serious now, more sorrowful, but still furious. "Watching ballet on TV and copying what they're doing because it's fun and it looks pretty? We don't do that here, be a man. Crying because you're a human being with emotions? You're getting a beating for that, be a man. Staring for a bit too long at the shirtless guy across the street? Extra shooting practice the next day. Does it make you skip hanging out with your only friend? Tough luck, be a man." Another pause. More tears. He sounds almost calm now but seething with rage underneath. He looks at John even more intensely before starting to speak again. "Doing something you're not supposed to with that friend? Congratulations. You're going on your first solo hunt. Here's a shovel, be a man."

John makes a face that says "right. You're going there. Alright.". Cas knows exactly what Dean is talking about, he's read about it in John's journal. Sam shifts in his seat. He didn't know about this part, he never noticed it. He feels so horrible for Dean but also for not standing up for him. He doesn't regret leaving for Stanford, they're well past that discussion, but he suddenly understands exactly what he left Dean alone with.

"Do you have _any_ idea..." Dean's voice breaks. "Do you have _any idea_ what that single night did to me? Because it was a message, no doubt about that. And I got it loud and clear. I drove the whole way home wondering if I was supposed to have jumped in that grave too, if you'd be disappointed when I came back home. And the shittiest thing is that at least part of me thought you were right. And I carried that with me. I hated myself, so much. You did that, you're to blame." He's yelling again. "Do you have any idea how hard I had to try to get your voice out of my head?? Be a man be a man be a man. _Decades_. I lost decades to your rotting ass."

"I just wanted my sons to be good men." Sam scoffs, takes his hand to his face. What even is a good man according to the gospel of John Winchester?, they all find themselves thinking at the same time. A soldier blindly obeying orders out of some pure and abstract respect for duty in and of itself, never leaving his commander no matter how unjust or ruthless the whole war is? Who gets to be that commander? Who gets to decide what a good man is? Why should anyone get to decide that? God is dead and Dean killed him, but he and Cas disrespected him first, and it's hard to say which sin Chuck thought was worse. Or which one truly killed him, for that matter. Good men these are not, if we go by the gospels. John talks a big game about fighting the bad guys, after being told God was one of them, but he'd like the gospels, Cas thinks. The real ones, the ones behind the scenes. They had bad guys too. John repeats himself, almost sounding desperate to be understood. "I just wanted you to be good men."

"Right. Good men. But you also wanted me to replace mom. That's the thing, isn't it? That's where it got sticky. You wanted me to take her place but you wanted me to do things even she wasn't doing, and things she was doing but should never have been. Making sure you didn't break anything when you got drunk was never her job, but she still had to do it, so after she died, so did I. You were a shitty husband to her so you were to me too. But I was still your son, so things got complicated. Be a grunt, be a man, but cook for us." The John voice returns. "Shoot to kill and ask questions later, but someone needs to help Sammy when he gets hurt. And help him with his homework too, but stop studying, you have bowhunting practice. What are you doing reading, you're getting soft, go make some more ammo. Men don't cry, men don't talk about their feelings, but oh Dean I just had the roughest day, let me tell you all about it. Let me pile onto you how I killed a monster that used to be a man but he wouldn't die so it took a few tries and he wouldn't shut up. My life is so hard but I come home and you're here and I have someone to split the pain with. Be the mom, I'm the dad, there's no wife, be the wife, be the man but I'm the man, be a man but be the mom, be a man but be the wife. I'm the man and I'm always gone so you're the dad _and_ the mom, and when I come home you're the wife because if no one's mediating then Sammy's gonna get hurt and you have to take care of Sammy. Don't forget you have to take care of Sammy no matter what it costs. And don't get sloppy on hunts, his mom has already died once." Dean swallows a whimper. The tears keep falling and the rage isn't quitting. Cas has seen these wounds in his soul but it's different to hear about them like this. John, for different reasons, has heard enough.

"Is that really how you see it? Was that what you thought was happening? Didn't you see me working my ass off to keep food on the table?"

"What food?", Sam half-whispers from his chair. All those nights going to bed hungry, or not going to bed hungry because Dean made sure he wouldn't.

John scoffs in disbelief. "I was out there every single day working for you. And I did what I could for you, I tried to do right by you. I did my best. When Mar-" Dean gives him a look like he's about to punch him. He corrects himself, still sounding angry. "I didn't know what to do either. I was afraid of what was out there, afraid of what could happen to you and Sam too. So I tried to raise you the best I could. And this is how you treat me now? You end up like _this_ and think I did wrong?" He points at Cas with his whole arm, hand open and stiff, and looks Dean in the eyes, with a face Dean knows and has always called "the I-am-going-to-hurt-you-on-purpose face". He braces himself for what's coming. John starts talking again. "If you ask me I didn't do enough." Now Cas is the one who looks like he's about to punch John, but John barely registers that. If only he knew. "What are you doing here, Dean? Do you think your life is perfect now? Is that it? Do you think you've got it all with this fancy pansy life of yours?" He says that in a mocking voice. "Do you really think this guy loves you? Do you think you deserve that? You were a weak kid, you tried and tried but you could never get there. I tried to push you but you always needed another extra push. You could never quite _be a man_ , that old motto you hate so much. You hate it because you couldn't quite make the cut, isn't it? You think you're worthy of anything? You pile of ungrateful, pathetic shit. I'll bet this guy doesn't even love you, whatever you two think that means. How could he?"

And there it is, John's greatest weapon against Dean. The "you have failed me, soldier". John acts like an angry god, and in a way he is, or he was, by virtue of power he had in others and not of faith others had in him. A self-made god by force, creator of men, yes, and unable to live in a world where he didn't control them because if he doesn't have power and authority he has nothing, and how can a god have nothing? That's what you get for creating conscious things. Cas thinks that maybe the difference between John and Chuck is that John didn't create on his own. John isn't God because he had Mary, and Mary is no more because of God. The sons of the father aren't the same as the sons of the allfather because the sons of the father had a mother, and maybe the cruellest act of all is that the mother was just a woman who didn't deserve to be the crux of a whole small universe. It's a thankless job and it kills you by default, you exist to stop existing and that is your purpose. The allfather made the mother so the sons of the father would be different from his, because in the end he was their father too. John only ever had the power he was given, and even after death he can't bear to be without it because as long as he has it he's still alive in the only way that matters. He's dead but he's alive.

Dean makes a fist and holds it in the air beside him like he's about to hit the wall, but then he opens his hand and lays it on one of the beams. This is here. This is real. He and Cas are real. Raise high the roof beam, carpenters, and all that jazz. Happy moments. A house made of trees, trees watched with love, a house made by hands made for killing but changed into hands for making. A _home_ made of trees. Did any of the places they stayed at have wooden beams?, Dean finds himself wondering. They must have, but he doesn't remember seeing them. What love was in the hands that made them? Does that even matter if he couldn't see it? Does the wood even matter if the love's not there? What happens to the trees, then? Do they rot? Yes, they rot. They stay at the center of the house and they rot and take the whole house with them. His childhood home had a tree too. A broken, rotting tree. He's looking at it. It's time someone took an axe to it. John is dead but he's alive for only as long as Dean allows it. Dean Winchester has killed God and he'll do it again. Good men these are not. He looks John in the eyes.

"He does."

"What?"

"He loves me. Cas. You wanna know how I know that? Because despite your best efforts, I know what love actually feels like. How it's supposed to be. I don't know what lies you tell yourself to be able to sleep at night, or if you've ever needed any, but I did not deserve what you put on me. Neither did Sam. We were kids, and we deserved to be children. We deserved to play and fool around and to be allowed to be whoever the fuck we were. We deserved to be allowed a life. You didn't let us have that, so I'm getting it now. So is Sam. We have people who love us, and we're happy. Without you. Despite you. I found the love of my life and look! He's a man, and he loves me back and we make each other happy," He looks down at John, smiling. "and there's nothing you can do about that. And that's the worst thing you can hear, isn't it? That I know you hate me and I don't care. Well I don't. How about that?" Dean laughs. A weight is lifted. Sam laughs too. He's been sitting mostly in silence but he's relishing this. "How about that, huh? You are so disappointed in me, you hate me so much. And I don't give a fuck." Dean is still laughing, not pacing around the room anymore but almost prancing. "How do you like that? I love it. And I think it's about time your borrowed time ended. What do you think Sammy?" Sam takes a deep breath. He agrees. John is not welcome here. "Great. Any poignant last words for our dear old dad? No? I'll do the honors then." Dean's face twists as he turns to John and looks him in the eyes. "I'm a disappointment and I don't care. Fuck you."

John almost smiles, holding on to some shred of belief that they're joking, but he knows they aren't. There's a defeated look in his eyes, the look of a big scary man that isn't scary anymore without his power and authority. A commander without soldiers is just a man demanding obedience from his equals, trying to be a self-made god by force, and a commander abandoned by his soldiers is a failed god. And a god without believers is just someone shouting orders at the air, writing gospels no one will read. John would have liked the gospels. They could have taught him something. It's not that he had so much power and didn't know how to wield it, it's that he never realized that all power is fake. God started dying when he was disobeyed but he just wouldn't quit. His precious conscious things didn't need him anymore but he wouldn't stop forcing them to need him. Not self-made, but overstaying his welcome by force. How can a god have nothing? If he has nothing, he is nothing.

Cas looks at Dean. He looks back at Cas and nods. Cas looks at Sam and Sam looks at Dean and then nods too. Cas puts his hand on John's face. A flash of light, and just like that he's gone. Anticlimactic. Not that big of a death, over in two seconds. He was already dying before Cas even touched him. Dean lets himself fall onto a chair and Cas puts his arms around him, kissing his head. Dean grabs his arms and says nothing for a moment. It's over, just like that. They sit there in silence for a while. What do you say after something like that happens?

Sam and Eileen eventually go home, still not saying much. They're gonna lie on their bed and she's gonna hold Sam until he falls asleep and in the morning he'll be a freer man, but right now he doesn't even know what he's feeling, just that it's too much of _something_.

At night, Dean and Cas go to their bed too. Dean brushes his hand across the knots in the wood as he's lying down. Cas opens his arms and Dean falls onto his chest and cries. and he cries and cries as Cas rubs his back and runs his fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. In the morning, Cas looks at him with so much love in his eyes and Dean looks at him and puts his hand on Cas's face.

"You didn't have any nightmares."

"No. I'm not sure how I know, but I think they're gone now. For good."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

Funny how things work. Chuck's last hurrah ends up giving Dean the last thing he needed to finally be as happy as he can be. The allfather helps the son kill the father, accidentally. The all knowing writer's last say in the story doesn't go like he expected. And all because of Cas, who made it so they didn't meet when they should have. Dean has killed God again and again. God is dead and they're in love. Their fathers are dead and they can be in love. Their fathers are dead _because_ they're in love. A knot in the story that no one saw coming. Dean brushes his hand across the bedframe and then takes his fingers to Cas's hair. He kisses Cas. Life is good. They're happy.


End file.
